


A Night in New Orleans

by NAOA



Category: Gambit (Comic), X-Men (Comicverse), X-Men - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Assassins Guild, Attempted Kidnapping, Attempted Murder, Gen, Regret, Thieves Guild, kind of, parenting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-23
Updated: 2020-09-23
Packaged: 2021-03-08 04:21:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,357
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26619619
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NAOA/pseuds/NAOA
Summary: Years before Jean-Luc adopts Remy, he watches him from the balconies and galleries of the French Quarter and wonders if he's doing the right thing. While he wonders, others have plots of their own and Remy, oblivious to it all heads to bed.
Comments: 1
Kudos: 9





	A Night in New Orleans

**Author's Note:**

> Not sure when I wrote this, kind of just an idea I had for how Jean-Luc could have been looking after Remy before he adopted him.

The boy was growing and as he did, Jean-Luc LeBeau found himself worrying for him.

He had already removed the child from the Antiquiary but he couldn't remove the boy's eyes from his head nor the whispers and rumors that circulated about him through the air and through the guilds.

He watched the child from a gallery one night as the boy picked pockets along Rue St. Anne.

The boy wore dark shades to hide his eyes now, big, plastic lenses obscuring his face. He didn't know he was being watched but Jean-Luc knew and he knew he wasn't the only one watching that night.

Above the crowed of tourists and drunks, locals out for fun and a million sweating bodies he saw familiar faces on galleries around him. Dark faces hidden in shadow and he knew there was a plot.

People were scared of the boy. His own people. People who should have heeded his words and didn't. He'd said the boy wasn't to be touched and yet here he was, watching them, watching the boy, watching them watch the boy and down below the child had no idea.

His life consisted of reporting his ill gains to Fagin and avoiding a swat to the back of the head. The child didn't know the war fought over him and Jean-Luc wanted to keep it that way. It was better while the boy was still young.

Even this kind of childhood was better than none.

Even so his eyes followed the man across the street. Bourbon was loud tonight and people spilled out of doorways, sweating and wilting in the evening humidity. Even as a native he thought it was hot out that night and his eyes followed the boy who had stopped to watch a Dixie Land Band lead a wedding procession out of the St. Louis Cathedral.

The boy leaned against the fence around Jackson Square and watched them, eyes following the party behind his glasses. Jean-Luc wondered if he had ever been to a wedding. Most probably not, or at least not any he was supposed to have been at.

No one notices the child alone and yet his eyes follow him as the child unwraps his arms from around the fence and saunters off. He dips his little hand into a purse as he does and scoops out a wallet.

Jean-Luc feels a measure of pride for this child he's never spoken too. He's got a son of his own, Henri is a little older and everything he could have ever hoped for but he's always felt a kind of connection with this child, since the night he'd stolen him from the hospital.

There's music pouring into the street and below Remy walks on, not knowing he's being watched, not knowing he's got a destiny. He doesn't have any idea that there's expectations waiting for him.

Jean-Luc wishes he could protect the boy from them but he can't. He's the leader of the Thieves Guild and one boy can't be put above the Guild. Not even his own son Henri could take priority. There's older and more powerful things at play.

Jean-Luc watches the men across the street. Their eyes are fixed on the boy and he doubts they have any good plans for him.

He closes his hand around the railing and frowns hard, the French Quarter below him, spilling the masses onto her streets, hiding a little boy with demonic eyes.

Across town, his own son is asleep in his bed in their garden district manor. He's surrounded by iron fences the old south there, heavy curtains on the windows and antiques. Henri sleeps well and he feels a kind of guilt as he watches Remy in his dirty jeans and old t-shirt. This boy doesn't know anything about that world.

He watches them and then they move, following the boy. He follows them, silent and hidden, they haven't seen him yet but he isn't the leader for nothing.

They move in, hovering from galleries like carrion birds over the boy who walks on oblivious.

Jean-Luc catches up to them when the boy cuts away from Bourbon Street and begins to wander out of the French Quarter, away from the noise and crowed streets.

He knows a few of the places the boy goes to sleep in. He's already staking himself away from Fagin, already too smart for the man. Soon he'll have to take the kid away from Fagin or else risk wasting him. The kid is good but tonight he's just a kid.

"What do you think you're doing?" He asks as he catches up to the other thief. He knew it was Marcus Delacroix from afar. Now that he see's him up close he can see the look on the mans face and knows Marcus didn't know he was watching.

He savors the element of surprise and asks again. "What are you doing?" He asks. "I told you eight years ago that the boy was off limits. I'll handle him."

Marcus hangs for a second before righting his posture. "I remember but you can't trust him, Jean-Luc."

Jean-Luc isn't about to hear this. He knows the superstitions, he's kept then in mind just in case. He knows. "We're not assassins, Marcus." He says. "We're you really planning to harm the boy?"

They're standing on a roof top now, watching the boy as he picks his way along the less crowded streets outside the French Quarter.

"Not harm." Marcus whispers, looking down at the child.

"Then what?"

"Was gonna take him to the Bayou."

Jean-Luc scowls, not pleased and not surprised. "And do what with him?" He asks, knowing probably what. "Hope the gators take care of him for you? Dat boy wouldn't be done that easy, even you should know that."

Marcus winces. "He's dangerous, Jean-Luc. Everyone can see it."

He can see their superstitions. He's heard it all before. "They're just rumors." He says. "And he's just a little boy."

"You know that ain't no boy." Marcus scoffs, voice a little hurt.

Jean-Luc shrugs. "You t'ink so? I wish I could t'ink that way." He looks down at the boy, farther away, disappearing into shadows and the summer heat. What fucking life is he giving this child?

Marcus shakes his head. "Don't know what power he has over you." He says. "De boy will bring us ruin, Jean-Luc. Everyone knows it."

"Everyone knows what they've been told and it's men like you doing the telling, Marcus."

Marcus gives him a grieving look this time, mind unforgiving, unable and unwilling to understand.

The boy is gone.

"He'll doom the Guild."

"Or save it."

Marcus nods, quarry lost, plans aborted. Remy gone. "Maybe." He whispers.

Jean-Luc understands and wishes he still had eyes on the boy. It's when he feels the least guilty.

Remy however is gone into the night and of course knows how and where to hide from the world.

Jean-Luc goes home and watches Henri sleep, wondering if his own son understands how much he loves him. Wondering if he'll forgive him when he gets old enough to know him.

He wonders where Remy is sleeping, knows he's not in a bed like Henri. Know's he's not safe and loved like Henri and he feels like he's letting two children down.

Out there among the street lamps and stars, the one way streets and cemeteries the shot gun houses and superstitions, Remy has a little place to rest and for the night he sleeps unaware

But destiny is coming for him and it'll come in the shapes of Guilds and marauders, X-Men and lovers. Mistakes and trusts and while Jean-Luc knows the boy has a fate he has not a clue of these things.

When he closes the door to his son's room he only knows that Remy is out there asleep and he feels guilt he can't explain. Guilt unfitting of a Guild leader. Guilt of a father and in just a few years time that's what he'll be to the boy. He'll have two sons then and he won't feel he's doing any better.

**Author's Note:**

> This has got some problems, it changes tense or something near the beginning but I still kind of liked it. Thanks for reading!


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